


Eddie the Ink Master

by mothersuspiriorum



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothersuspiriorum/pseuds/mothersuspiriorum
Summary: For his 25th birthday, Richie Tozier wants to get a tattoo. He choses Eddie Kaspbrak, the cute and fiery winner of the tattoo competition "Ink Master" to do it.
Relationships: Minor Bill Denbrough/Stan Uris, Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak, minor Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	Eddie the Ink Master

**Author's Note:**

> you may have read this before, that's because i've posted it before as gazebo-motherfucker, my old IT blog/a03 handle. a while ago i took a break from the IT fandom because of some toxic ass motherfuckers so i took all my works down. now that i'm back in the fandom for the most part i've been going through my google drive and weeding out the stories i'm not really too fond of. this is one of the ones that made the cut

“Immaterial Ink, this is Eddie Kaspbrak speaking. How may I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. Can I get a tattoo?” Richie Tozier asked. He was sitting on his bed with his legs crossed, the website for Immaterial Ink Tattoo Parlor open on his laptop. The man, Eddie, laughed through the phone. A dry, amused chuckle.

“I don’t know, can you?” Richie felt himself blush, taking his lip between his teeth and nibbling slightly.

“Uh, I mean, when are your openings for a tattoo? I want one,” Richie blurted.

“Well you called a tattoo parlor, so I assumed you were looking for a tattoo,” Eddie said, his voice dry and sardonic. Richie felt like he should have been annoyed at the man’s tone, but instead it made him smile sheepishly. This was a lot harder than he anticipated.

Richie has just turned 25, and for his birthday he got completely hammered. With friends, of course. When he was at his drunk peak, his friend Bill recorded him slurring out that he wanted a tattoo. God damn Bill to hell, because now he was making Richie keep his drunken word. 

“You don’t have any tattoos, Billy! You have no idea how much they hurt!” Richie told him.

“Well, I do, and I can tell you that mine didn’t hurt at all,” Bill’s husband, Stan, interjected. Richie highly doubted that, Stan had a sleeve tattoo covering his entire arm. It was a very intricate design, composed of Stan’s favorite species of birds and his favorite flowers. “Besides, Eddie is really good. He won the latest season of Ink Master, only gay person in the show’s history to win.

Eddie Kaspbrak was the one who did Stan’s sleeve. Richie had never met him, only saw him for a couple seconds on the aforementioned tattoo show while flipping through channels on his tv. From what Richie saw, Eddie was feisty, and very talented. Eddie practically started a war on Twitter after a certain episode where he (rightly) accused a fellow contestant of being homophobic. He received the brunt of the backlash, but never responded, simply deciding to let it roll off his back.

Richie looked up Eddie’s tattooing portfolio, and was very impressed by his designs. It also helped that Eddie was very attractive. He had a soft face, but menacing eyes. Whenever he smiled, it was more of a pointed smirk. His arms in particular made Richie swoon, they were muscular and covered in several black and white tattoos.

“Who do you want? If you tell me the name of your preferred artist I can check their schedule,” Eddie said, sounding very professional. There was a small pop, followed by chewing. He must have been chewing some gum.

The other artists had some pretty decent work, but Richie knew he wanted Eddie. Beverly Hanscom’s colors were gorgeous, and Mike Hanlon’s line work was impeccable, but everything about Eddie’s designs blew Richie away. He also wanted an excuse to meet him, he was practically a walking Richie Tozier wet dream.

“I want you. Shit! I mean I’d like you to do my tattoo...Please,” Richie said, smacking himself in the head. Eddie laughed on the other line, a cute little snort.

“Smooth. I’m booked solid, I’m afraid my only opening is tomorrow at noon. If that doesn’t work for you, you’ll have to wait until next month. Unless you want someone else to do it? Beverly is pretty much free for the next 3 weeks,” Eddie said. Richie sat up straight on his bed, wincing when he felt his back crack and bones shift.

“No! I can make tomorrow at noon work!” Richie said, a little too desperately.

Eddie laughed again. Richie could listen to that laugh forever. “Alright then. Name?”

Richie smirked, not that Eddie could tell. “Just put down ‘The Man Of Your Dreams’.”

“Oh my god, Chadwick Boseman?” Eddie said, gasping. Richie laughed, and so did Eddie. 

“For real though, my name’s Richie. Tozier.” 

Eddie hummed in interest. “Ah, so you’re Richie. Stanley mentioned you when I did his sleeve. You don’t seem that insufferable, but then again this has just been a 5 minute phone conversation.” Richie opened his mouth to object, but was interrupted by a huge crash from the other line. He heard a slightly rough woman’s voice scream “Fuck!”.

“Oh god damn it, I gotta go, Beverly dropped some new ink on the damn floor. See you tomorrow at noon. Don’t be late, even a minute. I don’t tattoo people who can’t bother to show up on time,” Eddie said, hanging up. Richie probably should have thought Eddie was acting ridiculous, but the commanding tone in his voice sent shockwaves all throughout Richie’s body (his groin included).

Richie hung up as well, throwing his phone on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. He booked the appointment, now he just needed to sack up and actually go through with this. It wasn’t really the needles that scared him, it was more the fact that whatever he chose to be tattooed on him would stay on him. Forever. Richie could barely commit to one type of breakfast cereal, the idea of injecting permanent ink into his skin had him reeling.  
Powering down his laptop, Richie set it on his nightstand and laid down. He stared at the ceiling, bringing his hands up to rest behind his head, propping him up slightly. There were stains on the ceiling, stains that only Richie could manage to put up there. He started to count them in an attempt to fall asleep, but it didn’t work. All he could think about were two things. The inevitable tattoo, and the enigmatic artist who’d be doing it.

The next day, Richie made sure to show up ten minutes before noon, as per Eddie’s request. He parked his motorcycle in one of the spots in front of the shop, putting down the kickstand and swinging his leg over and off the bike. The shop was a little on the small side, and a bit intimidating. Several designs were painted on the windows, some Richie recognized as Eddie’s style, and others that were probably Beverly’s or Mike’s. 

Through the windows, Richie could see Eddie talking with Beverly. Richie’s breath hitched as he saw what Eddie was wearing. He could only see him from the waist up, and he was wearing a goddamn crop top. It was solid black and it clung to Eddie’s torso. Richie could see twin nipple rings under the fabric, straining under its tightness. 

Richie gulped and opened the door, stepping inside the parlour. Eddie and Beverly turned their attention towards Richie, Eddie’s eyes raking him up and down. As if the crop top wasn’t hot enough, Eddie was wearing a skirt. A black, spider web patterned skater skirt that stopped halfway down Eddie’s smooth, tattooed thighs.Thanks to how low the skirt was on his hips, Richie could see a tattoo right below Eddie’s belly button, above his groin. It said “No Angel” in cursive script. Richie’s mouth watered, and he was shamelessly staring at this point.

“So this is the infamous Trashmouth Tozier, in the flesh,” Eddie chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. He was probably the only person in the world who could look menacing, scary even, while wearing a crop top and skirt. Beverly giggled next to him, winking at Richie before disappearing into the back.

“Hey, Eds! Nice you meetcha!” Richie said, holding out his hand. Eddie grabbed it, and squeezed hard.

“Don’t call me that. Thanks for being on time,” he said. Richie retracted his hand, and it was throbbing slightly. Eddie gestured for Richie to follow him, so he did, like an eager puppy. They walked down a hall of different tattoo cubicles until they got to the biggest one at the end, Eddie’s. 

The cubicle was extremely neat, not a single bottle of ink out of place and not a single picture frame crooked. All along the walls were framed pictures of tattoos that Richie assumed Eddie had done. Richie’s eyes stopped on a picture of a woman who he swore looked exactly like-

“Rihanna?! You tattooed freaking Rihanna?!” Richie gawked. There she was, in all her glory, showing off the fresh tattoo on her shoulder. Eddie chuckled and nodded.

“Robyn was great, one of my favorite clients,” Eddie said casually, as if it was nothing major.

“Oh my god, you’re on a first name basis with Rihanna. Are you two friends?” 

Eddie shrugged. He sat down on a spinning seat stool and pulled out a sketchpad and some pencils. “We aren’t best buddies, but I get invited to some shit she’s a part of.” Eddie spoke so nonchalantly Richie could feel his head spinning. “Sit, you’re freaking me out just standing there like a mannequin,” Eddie snapped, pointing to the tattoo chair with a pencil. Richie muttered a small apology, sitting down and folding his hands awkwardly in his lap.

“So, uh, should I tell you what I want?” Richie asked, regretting it immediately. That was a stupid fucking question.

“Well, you could. Or you could let me pick something for you. You’ve got a 50/50 chance that it won’t be a penis. I’ll bump that up to 60/40 for $50 extra,” Eddie said, seeming dead serious. Richie barked a laugh, and noticed Eddie smiling when he did. It wasn’t a smirk, but an actual smile.

Richie took a deep breath. “My mother passed away last year, and I want something for her,” he said, willing his voice not to shake. Eddie’s usual stone face softened, and he put a hand on Richie’s knee.

“My condolences,” he said quietly. Richie nodded. “How? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It was a hit and run.”

Eddie hummed. He set the pencil down and looked Richie in the eyes. “I lost my mother years ago. We weren’t close at all, and I can’t say I was too upset, but I can definitely tell from how you talk about her that you loved your mother very much.” Richie nodded, trying to discreetly wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I want you to have something that makes you think of her fondly. What were you thinking?”

This was something Richie put a lot of thought into, and was one of the reasons he barely slept a wink last night. He wanted to make sure this tattoo was something meaningful. Something beautiful and bold, just like his mother was.

“Her name was Maggie, which means pearl in Greek. I want something related to a pearl. She had this one pearl necklace that she blew the bank on, so she wore it whenever she could. She loved pearls,” Richie explained. Eddie nodded, picking up a pencil and starting to sketch. Richie watched as he worked intently, making sure to keep the notepad facing away from Richie so he wouldn’t see until it was done.

Eddie sighed when he finished, sticking the pencil behind his ear. He flipped the notepad around to face Richie, a hopeful look in his eyes. A gorgeously detailed rose sat on the paper, with a string of pearls wrapped around the stem. Richie inhaled with a slight shudder, reaching out to take the pad from Eddie’s hand.

“You can pick what color you want the rose to be, but that’s the design I had in mind,” Eddie said. “Is it okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

Richie nodded furiously, his vision becoming blurred by tears. “It’s perfect. I love it, and I know she would too.” Eddie smiled, looking a little proud of himself. “I want the rose to be yellow. It was her favorite color.”

Eddie nodded and spun around to face his display of inks. He picked out a green for the stem, and a vibrant yellow for the rose itself. He poured the ink out into small cups, which he set on a tray beside the chair. It looked like a tray that doctors put operating tools on. The gun was resting on it, its wires running all along the ground to the control box. Richie pulled his shirt off when Eddie spun around to get a pair of gloves, and Eddie gasped when he turned around to a shirtless Richie.

“Oh, sorry! I, uh, want it on my chest,” Richie said, blushing as Eddie stared wide eyed at his naked upper half. Eddie shook his head slightly, seemingly snapping himself out of whatever daze he was just in. 

“Right! Where, exactly?” Richie pointed to the center of his chest, right in between his nipples.

“I even shaved there to save you the time,” Richie said, making Eddie sigh in relief. 

“God, thank you. That’s always my least favorite part. This size good?” He gestured to the pad. Richie nodded. “Great, I’ll go print an outline.” Eddie grabbed the pad and left the cubicle. Richie looked around at more pictures while he waited, admiring Eddie’s work.

In one there was someone who Richie recognized as Ryan Ashley, a previous winner of Ink Master. The picture had to be a candid, her and Eddie caught off guard and in the middle of a laugh. Her arm was around his shoulder, and his face was buried in her neck. There was definitely a story behind that picture, the happy memories oozing off of it. 

Eddie came back with an outline in his hand. He leaned over Richie and pressed the thin paper to the center of his chest. Richie breathed in sharply as his and Eddie’s faces were mere inches from each other. Eddie’s breath smelled like chocolate. Not that Richie was purposefully trying to get a whiff of the inside of his mouth, it just happened.

With Eddie that close to him, Richie could also see that on his neck was a small tattoo of a single word. Placebo. It was in a spot where it could only be seen if Eddie tilted his head back, or if he was hovering over someone. Richie was also able to make out each and every one of Eddie’s many freckles. They were mainly across his nose and on his cheeks, cute little dots that made Eddie seem cherubic despite his rough general exterior.  
Eddie pulled the paper off, leaving a light outline of the rose on Richie’s chest. He pulled the stool closer to the chair and grabbed the gun. It whirred to life and Eddie dipped it in the green ink. 

“You ready? This is gonna hurt,” Eddie said. Richie bit the insides of his cheeks, but nodded anyway. Eddie began the tattoo, brining the needle of the gun to the base of the rose stem.

He was right, it did hurt. Like a fucking bitch. Richie clenched his fists, his nails cutting into his palms as Eddie dragged the needle up the stem. He stopped after a couple inches, wiping away stray ink, and Richie cherished those few precious seconds when it didn’t feel like Eddie was dragging a hot spire up his chest. Eddie looked up at Richie, briefly stopping his hand movements.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice back to steely. Richie nodded, not wanting to seem like a wimp.

“I am lovely. This feels like a walk in the park, babe,” Richie said, the pet name slipping unintentionally from his lips. 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Don’t-” Richie braced for Eddie’s scolding, but it never came, “Don’t worry. It’ll be over before you know it.” Richie practically had stop his jaw from dropping as he looked at an obviously flustered Eddie. He focused on making sure the lines of the tattoo were straight, but Richie could still see a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

The outline of the tattoo hurt, but the worst of it was the color. It felt like searing pain was spreading all throughout Richie’s chest, and then it hit him. This was happening. He was getting a tattoo. That shit doesn’t come off. Well, it does, but with a goddamn laser. Eddie seemed to pick up on Richie’s nervousness, stopping the gun.

“Having regrets?” he asked.

“Yes? And no? I’m happy that I’m getting something for my mom, but I’m scared I’m gonna regret it,” Richie explained. He looked at Eddie’s multitude of tattoos. “Do you have any you regret?” 

Instantly, Eddie gave a curt nod. He pulled up his skirt a bit, which made Richie’s eyes widen, to reveal the name Patrick tattooed on the outside of Eddie’s upper left thigh. “Who’s-”

“Ex-husband.” Richie’s jaw dropped but Eddie continued before he could interject. “We dated for like 3 years, and I was convinced he was the one. You know, the one. It wasn’t till we were married that the lovestruck spell broke.” Eddie said bitterly.

“Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to-”

“I find it’s better to be straightforward and talk about this openly. He beat me. Several times,” Eddie said casually. Richie could tell by his tone of voice that this was something Eddie has been telling people for years, that he was used to it by now. His casual indifference showed experience. “I took it for a while. I didn’t want to lose him, even though he hurt me. I was scared I’d lose him, and with him being my first serious relationship I felt like he was all I deserved. I’ve been meaning to get it covered up, but I’m just too busy.”

Richie’s heart broke for Eddie, but he didn’t vocalize that. He somehow just knew that pity was the last thing Eddie wanted. Eddie leaned forward and moved to turn the gun back on. “You ready to keep going?” he asked. Richie nodded.

Almost an hour later, the tattoo was finally finished. Richie admired it in Eddie’s floor length mirror. The colors were beautiful, the linework was neat, and it was overall an amazing tattoo. All insecurities Richie previously had were gone now. Eddie stood behind him, arms crossed and a pleased look on his face. 

“Oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much!” Richie said, he turned around and without even thinking, leaned down and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Eddie gasped, his face heating up instant. When Richie realized what he did he gasped too. “Oh shit, I-I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that, I-” 

Richie was cut off by Eddie bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his neck. He pulled Richie forward roughly, catching his lips in a heated and harsh kiss. Richie was shocked, but he melted into it. Eddie took his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting it and pulling it back slightly. They broke from the kiss panting, a strand of saliva connecting their lips. Eddie was the first to speak.

“I have been wanting to do that for the last hour,” he said, regaining his composure. Richie tried to talk, but all that left his mouth was a quick squeak. Eddie chuckled lightly. “That’ll be $100. We accept cash or credit.”

“H-How about I take you out on a date?” Richie said. “A-Along with paying for the tattoo of course,” he added quickly. 

Eddie smiled, accepting the $100 bill that Richie handed him. “I was just about to ask you out. Beat me to it.”

Richie giggled, smiling as well. Eddie laughed with him, the two of them moving closer to each other. From the next cubicle over, the two heard victorious cheers.

“Yes! You owe me 20 bucks, Hanlon! Pay up!”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading ! if u enjoyed it please leave a kudos and a comment, feedback keeps writers going ! and you can also follow my new IT sideblog, derryluckyseven


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